Opening Salvo
When Korba had boarded that shuttle, he had not expected to make a return to Belsmuth II. Yet here he was, watching as the planet appeared distant off the light cruiser's starboard side. The Rebellion ships closed in on it, moving in an attack formation that favoured the larger ships in the centre, with the smaller ones coming up on the flanks. He was able to get a fairly decent view of this approach from the hangar bay, standing by a Rebel shuttle as he was, hands bound behind his back. Through the open hangar, he could see the other vessels, Hammerhead-corvettes and Corellian blockade-runners mainly, with two large Rebel cruisers comprising the bulk of the heavier vessels. In such a short time, Captain Hawker had assembled a sizeable battle-group, lead by a man named General Haskell. He was not someone Korba was familiar with, although from what he had gathered it had been Haskell who had ordered the manhunt for him. Somewhere along the way, some insider operative had leaked Korba's intentions to the Alliance, and Haskell had been assigned to track him down.
It was a surprise, then, when Captain Hawker appeared with a stern-looking middle-aged man in a General's uniform. They were accompanied by the Farsallian male, Jeras Vakla, a young human female and several other armed Rebel troopers. The group traversed the open space of the hangar briskly, with Gale Hawker stopping just before Korba. He had been waiting here for a good fifteen minutes, his only company being the armed escort of two Rebel troopers assigned to guard him. Neither had made any attempt at conversation and had watched him coldly.
"This is the Major himself, is it?" The General stopped a short distance from him, eyeing him in such a way that suggested he might have been planning to spar with him. "Not what I expected." He turned to Gale. "You did well, Captain. Your reputation was right on the money. Getting the job done, no matter what."
"It was a pleasure, sir." Gale sounded positively smug. Korba would have enjoyed punching the smugness right off of her pretty face, but there was little he could do in his current position. Surrounded by gun-toting soldiers who would have likely enjoyed killing him, his wrists bound behind his back and his uniform stained with his own blood, he was forced to simply remain where he was, posture straight as it should be for any self-respecting Imperial officer. It was the least he could do.
"Will you be directing this battle, General?" Gale asked. Haskell nodded his head in the affirmative.
"From the bridge of the cruiser, Indefatigable. I put you onto this mission, I feel it's only fitting I bring it to it's proper end."
"Sounds fair, General."
"As for the Major here, I leave him in your capable hands," Haskell added. "He could lead you to what he's hiding, but I would tread carefully. He looks like a real snake, and no one from the Imperial Security Bureau can be trusted whatsoever."
"We'll keep our wits about us, sir." This might have been about the point where an Imperial soldier would salute their commanding officer, but Gale was no Imperial, nor was she the kind of person to follow proper etiquette. Haskell turned around and started for a nearby waiting shuttle, whilst Gale simply motioned to the other Rebel soldiers with them, gesturing for the shuttle behind them. "We'll make our move in the confusion of the battle. We'll have fighter support as well, so we shouldn't get into too much trouble."
"Oh, there'll be plenty of trouble." Korba elected to speak then, if only to get a rise out of her. And that he did, since she promptly backhanded him with her robotic left arm. This knocked him backwards, the pain reverberating through his head, causing more blood to well up in his mouth. He hit the back-end of the shuttle behind him, yet he was able to remain on his feet and from there he picked himself away from the shuttle's hull. In this, he tried to maintain the slightest bit of dignity. He met Gale's eyes, and in doing so, he smirked a her.
"Trouble started by you, no doubt." Korba relaxed, despite the ache that pounded inside his head. "Belsmuth II is well-defended. You'll have a hard time breaking through to the surface."
"That's something the General will have to take care of," Gale countered. "You and I, and my friends here? We're going to your ship. And you're going to lead us straight to what I know you're hiding from us. Fortune would have it that your ship was detected in orbit, parked against an orbital refuelling and repair station. So we won't even have to go down to the surface." She sounded confident, sure that she was on the home-stretch now. She might have been, but as long as Korba was still alive, he still intended on doing whatever he could to mess with her. And that meant stringing her along on a fruitless mission to find a secret weapon he himself had not found, one that he knew now did not exist. He thought that maybe, somewhere he was not aware of, someone had made plans as to the prototype vessel the researchers at Phindar had contemplated designing. Yet even if Korba had somehow found actual plans for such a ship, he did not have the resources to build it. No one did now, not when the Empire was in such disarray. Undertaking a project of that size would not be feasible without everyone in the Empire supporting it.
All speculation, of course. No plans, no weapon and certainly no ship. Nothing more than a pipe dream, concocted by a bunch of scientists who had been left to their own devices on a forgotten space-station, all at the behest of the Emperor. Korba wondered where they were now, or if they were even still alive. And if, had the Emperor lived, this pipe dream would have become something closer to a reality.
He was grabbed by two of the soldiers then, both of whom roughly directed him towards the waiting shuttle. It was a modified civilian model, with additional armour attached to its hull, along with military-grade deflector shields. Typical Rebellion work, in the sense that they made use of whatever they could get their hands on and modified it if need be. Korba was shoved up the entrance ramp at the rear, with Gale and her squad following behind. He kept quiet as they sat down within the confines of the shuttle, even if Gale was watching him closely. He might have said something more to her, to further rile her up and cloud her judgement, but he decided against it for now. They were about to fly through a space battle, and if they blew up along the way then it would certainly make for an easy, if abrupt, end. No use riling her up now, for it would make no difference until they reached their destination.
"Is he going to cooperate?" It was the Farsallian who asked this question, no doubt referring to Korba. Gale turned to him, and she gave a light shrug of her shoulders as part of her reply.
"Maybe. Maybe not. But if he knows what's good for him, he'll take us to what we want." She then settled her eyes upon him. "Isn't that right, Major?"
Korba did not say anything to this. He did not need to, and Gale had not been expecting an answer. For now, the group fell quiet, with only a few muttered exchanges taking place between members whilst they waited for their go-ahead.
The space around Belsmuth II was home to a sizeable Imperial defence force. Three Star Destroyers, supported by several smaller frigates and corvettes, turned to meet the oncoming Rebel battle-group. In terms of numbers, the opposing sides were roughly equal. The sleek, vaguely oval-shaped Rebel cruisers lead the assault, both of the Mon Calamari-designed ships well-equipped to face off with Imperial Star Destroyers. Around them swarmed squadrons of X-Wings, A-Wings and Y-Wings, and a hail of turbo-laser fire lanced forth from both vessels. The fighters swooped into play, meeting head-on with the Imperial TIE fighters and TIE Interceptors, ships looping and rolling and spinning around one another with laser fire darting between them. Small blossoms of flame erupted against the backdrop of the cruisers as fighters fell prey to enemy craft and battery fire. Turbo-laser blasts dissipated against the deflector shields on the heavy ships, presenting quick flashes as the energies within each shot scattered. The Star Destroyers turned to face the Rebel cruisers directly, and from the frigates and corvettes on both sides came a mix of blaster fire and concussion missile salvos. Expressly designed for penetrating thick armour, the concussion missiles swept through the vacuum with white smoke trailing in their wake.
An Imperial corvette, comprised of a long, sleek and rectangular design, caught a full salvo front on. Its shields failed almost right away under the relentless assault, and explosions began to erupt across its armoured hull. Atmosphere swept out of the newly-created breaches in a rush of white smoke, smoke that froze within seconds upon hitting the vacuum. The corvette began to fall out of formation, its engines failing, its front-half reduced to a flaming wreck. Debris floated freely around it, the loss of the lives aboard being lost within the chaos of the engagement. Y-Wing bombers swept upon one of the Victory-class frigates nearby, bombarding it with ion bombs that sent its shield and engine systems into overload. Power failed throughout the vessel, and like the smouldering corvette, it began to fall from formation. The crew on board tried frantically to reactivate its failed power, all the while a squadron of X-Wing fighters moved in, working in tandem with the pilots of the Y-Wings, striking the weakened frigate with a salvo of proton torpedoes. The brilliant balls of blazing pink-white energy wreaked havoc against the defenceless frigate, tearing through the hull in a spectacular eruption of light and flame. The frigate was torn asunder, fire rampaging through its form as a chain-reaction set off throughout. Several more detonations occurred from within, further ripping it apart, before the entire middle section became an eruption of fire and smoke. It was over in a flash, the released heat and oxygen dispersing quickly in the vacuum. The ship was torn into two pieces, which began to float freely.
One of the Rebel blockade runners caught a broadside from one of the Star Destroyers. The quad-laser turret fitted upon the Star Destroyer's flank ripped through the nimble vessel with ease, the high-powered beams overloading the ship's shields almost right away. In a flash, the ship had exploded, several smouldering chunks of it being tossed every which-way. As if in response, the lead Rebel cruiser shifted the bulk of its guns upon the responsible Star Destroyer, hammering it with an incredible volume of blaster fire. Yet the vessel remained stalwart, soaking up the fire like a sponge, before it returned the favour. And like the Star Destroyer, the Mon Calamari cruiser took the brunt of the enemy fire as if it was little more than an inconvenience.
The battle in space fell into full swing, the sky over Belsmuth II becoming awash with green and red blaster fire, the striking blue lances of powerful laser batteries, and flashes of detonations as ships, small and large, began to fall victim to the tumultuous exchange. Behind the Imperial lines was situated an orbital repair and refuelling station. Docked to this was an Imperial frigate which practically sat out the battle for now. From the hangar of a light cruiser emerged Gale's shuttle, and a trio of X-Wings fell into support around it in order to serve as an escort. A dangerous insertion plan, yet Gale could see no other option. Further shuttles followed, landing craft mainly, supported by fighter escorts as they made a beeline for the surface. For now, Gale's shuttle had a different intended destination.
The orbital repair station was essentially a sleek, grey half-circle with several docking areas, a few of which were occupied. In terms of defences, turbo-lasers made up the bulk of them, the station itself reliant upon the defence fleet to protect it. One of the docking areas was taken up by Korba's frigate, and Gale recognized the ship's profile on the shuttle's scanners as they raced towards it.
Standing by the pilot's chair as the pilot himself worked the controls, blaster fire zipped by the view-port as did fighters of both sides. Their shuttle zoomed through the chaos, zig-zagging, dipping and banking every which way to throw off any pursuers. Their fighter escort did its job, with one of the X-Wings moving to engage a pair of TIE fighters that wandered too close. Gale watched much of this play out on the scanners, with small computerised silhouettes of the craft zipping about the blue display screen on the cockpit dashboard. It was a mess of marked contacts, both friendly and otherwise, and occasionally a red warning light would start blinking, along with an alarm beep sounding off, as someone locked on a homing weapon upon the shuttle. The few times this occurred, the pilot engaged all manner of spins and other evasive manoeuvres, occasionally lurching the crew as the shuttle rolled erratically. The inertial dampeners within ensured that the occupans inside were not thrown about, and instead their centre of gravity remained consistent despite the reckless moves.
"Get us in the hangar," Gale ordered the pilot. She glanced behind her, towards the passenger section. Jeras and her squad were seated quietly, some gripping nearby handholds tight when the shuttle engaged in some sudden evasive move. Gale only had to keep a hand wrapped around the bar in the ceiling above her, her gaze set on the scanner screen and the view-port ahead of her. The orbital repair station rushed up towards them, and a hail of turbo-laser fire came with it. Green bolts of searing energy swept by the shuttle, some of them glancing upon the deflector shields. Each impact sent the whole shuttle rattling, and the pilot had to fight to keep the ship from falling out of his control.
"There's too much fire." The pilot's gloved hands gripped the controls tightly, and his knuckles had likely gone white underneath. "We'll be shot to pieces…"
"Shut up and fly." Gale felt like clipping him across the ear. She probably would have, had he not been flying the ship. "We'll make it."
The pilot gritted his teeth as he sent the shuttle into full throttle, hitting the afterburners that made them all suddenly rocket forth. Gale had to grip the handhold above her tightly to keep herself from stumbling forwards at the sudden momentum. With the way they were racing up to the repair station, it looked alarmingly likely that they might collide. However, the pilot seemed to have better control than Gale had expected from him, and he directed the shuttle straight for the frigate's open hangar. Had the vessel been in full operation, they would have hit its shields, but in its current state it was mostly dormant. Manned, obviously, with some percentage of its crew still present on board, but things such as shields were deactivated for the time being. As such, they were able to race straight for the hangar, although the proximity to their destination allowed the nearby turbo-laser batteries to gain a better bead on them.
Gale held tight as a bolt of energy clipped their side, overloading the shields and blowing off a panel on one wing. Another one slammed into the front end of the shuttle, fire blazing forth, with the pilot struggling to compensate for the sudden loss of control. The shuttle turned slightly, and the pilot hit the reverse-thrusters hard. This time, Gale did stumble, as the sudden deceleration was hard enough to be felt through the inertial dampeners. They passed through the atmospheric force-field keeping the hangar protected from the harsh vacuum, fire streaming from the shuttle. Hitting the glazed black floor underneath, Gale felt herself get thrown forwards. She lost her grip on the handhold above, and she hit the control panel in front of her. Cracks shot across the front view-port, and the far wall of the hangar rushed up to them quickly. Still, the reverse-thrusters blazed hard to slow the shuttle's crash-course, and the whole ship came to a skidding halt mere metres from the wall.
Right away, Gale turned to the passengers. Her squad appeared mostly unscathed, even Korba, who had remained seated the entire trip. He hardly looked fazed, despite his predicament. Gale would have to change that soon enough, although for now she was content to continue with their objective.
"Come on, everybody up. Let's move." She pulled the lever by her left, and the ramp ahead began to lower itself. Her squad, Jeras and Kylee among them, rose to their feet and began to file out of the shuttle. Weapons raised and alert levels high, they fanned out around the crashed shuttle. Gale followed after them, pulling her DL-44 pistol from her waist holster as she moved. She did not expect to encounter a great deal of resistance upon the ship, given its status as 'under repair', but that was no excuse to fall at ease. Even now, there would be troopers racing to combat this unexpected incursion, and she intended to meet them head-on.
"Lieutenant, keep an eye on Korba." She glanced to Jeras, who had already grabbed a firm hold around Korba's left forearm. He pulled him along as they moved for the doors ahead, with metal containers and the like scattered about between them and the doors themselves. They helped to form some decent cover, as about half a dozen stormtroopers appeared through the doors as they slid open several metres ahead. Right away, a hail of blaster bolts zipped forth, and Gale and her squad ducked into whatever cover was available as the stormtrooper marines charged inside. Jeras forced Korba into a crouch by him, while the other Rebel troopers returned fire. One of the stormtroopers fell to the floor, a searing hole shot into his chest armour.
One of the Rebel soldiers carried an anti-armour launcher with him, and he shouldered it as another of the soldiers slid a missile into its rear-end. Taking aim at the doors ahead, he fired, the rocket lancing forth in a flash of fire and smoke. The thump of the explosion echoed across the hangar, and the thick double doors disappeared into a smoky, debris-laden haze. At least now the Imperials could not simply lock them in here and vent the atmosphere.
Gale shot down another of the stormtroopers, as he leaned around the side of a set of metal stairs situated on four-wheels, no doubt for use in boarding TIE fighters and the like. An alarm sounded then, wailing throughout the ship, followed by the voice of a woman that reverberated out of the PA system and throughout the hangar bay.
"Rebel boarders have breached hangar bay one. All squads, converge on that location. They must not be allowed to advance."
Could that have been the voice of Lyssa Rayne? For a second there, Gale thought that it might have been. Yet she quickly realised that it was not, despite the similarities in the accent and the way they spoke. Korba had lied about the Scout Trooper's death, no doubt to protect her, and even now Gale harboured some hope of finding her and finishing her. A life for a life, so it went, and the humiliation of losing to her had only weighed on her mind since their encounter on Bespin. The thought of her life falling into the hands of that Imperial lackey disturbed her, and for a moment there on that gangway, Lyssa had had the power of life and death over her. Death might have been easier, instead of having to live with that knowledge on her mind.
Another stormtrooper dropped to the floor. Gale motioned for the team to advance, leading the charge herself as she came up from behind a container, firing away. One of the stormtroopers took a shot at her, and it flew slightly wide before she levelled her aim upon him and returned the favour. Her shot hit home, blowing a chunk out of the face of his helmet. The stormtrooper fell into a heap on the floor, smoke wafting out of the hole left where one eye had been. Hardly the kind of injury one would walk away from.
It was Gale who made it to the busted doors first, and she leaned around one corner to find another pair of stormtroopers racing up the corridor. Firing two quick shots, she sent both of them tumbling onto the floor, before they fell still. Jeras followed closely behind her, his DT-29 pistol in one hand whilst the other remained tight around Korba's forearm. He pulled the Major along, as the team began to move down the corridor.
"Which way to your database, Major?" Gale turned to Korba, and his red eyes met with hers, briefly. He did not say anything, so Gale backhanded him across the face.
"Which way?" Gale spat, her tone a much more forceful one.
"You fly a light cruiser of Imperial design," Korba replied, in an even voice. "You should know where to find the commander's personal computer, surely?"
Gale turned her attention back down the corridor. He was right, as much as it annoyed her. Most Imperial vessels shared a similar layout, save for the obvious differences in size. The frigate was not much smaller than the light cruiser she commanded, so it stood to reason that whatever information Korba had gathered would be in his quarters, on his computer. Of course, they would likely need him around to access that computer, so Gale would have to hold off on killing him until then. With that thought in mind, it was unlikely General Haskell would approve of her killing him, as there was a lot someone like Korba could tell them that would help the war effort. She would have to keep him around, even after he had worn out his immediate usefulness.
She resumed her path down the corridor, Jeras and the others following her. She glanced back at the Farsallian, and he offered her a smile. Even with the fact that they had what was likely dozens of stormtroopers converging on their position, Jeras was able to remain upbeat. That was something she found both endearing and slightly annoying at the same time. Then again, she supposed she should not have expected anything different, from the man she had come to have genuine feelings for.
As they marched through the corridors, they went about destroying every apparent camera or listening speaker placed in their path. The Imperials were fond of their surveillance, and Gale had no intention of allowing any of their observers from getting an advantage over them because of it.
It had started to drizzle over the Academy. A light sprinkle of water fell from the heavens at a steady rate, although from the look of the clouds above it was simply a precursor of much heavier rains to come.
Standing at the edge of the open gravel parade ground, Lyssa found herself faced with scores of stormtroopers and recruits. The troopers were in the standard-issue white armour, with a handful of Sergeants with orange shoulder pauldrons scattered throughout the group. Drill instructors, most likely, as well as those in grey uniforms that had more specialised duties here in the Academy. The recruits were in cadet armour, wearing helmets with partially transparent visors that formed a sort of hood over the back of their heads. Most of them would have been young, late teens mostly, and they had had the misfortune to be on Belsmuth II at the wrong time.
Lyssa herself was in her Scout Trooper armour, her helmet tucked under one arm for now. She would rather the soldiers see her face, a means of giving the impression that there was an actual person under all the armour. And that, in turn, they could trust her more. Trust was important on the battlefield, and without it whole squads could fall apart.
While the space battle raged above, Lyssa had done what she could to organize available equipment. They had three AT-ST walkers at their disposal, and each one stood dormant behind them, their crews checking their engines and mechanics in preparation for the fight. Several anti-armour launchers had been dug out of the armoury, as well as hundreds of small arms. E-11 rifles mainly, as well as some DL-19 heavy blasters, a dozen or so of the powerful T-21 blaster rifles and about twenty pulse rifles that would favour long range positions. Grenades were plentiful, but when it came to more specialised equipment there was a frustrating lack thereof. They had less than Lyssa had expected for a training academy, although she supposed it being an academy and not a full-blown military base might have had something to do with their lack of heavy firepower.
Still, they were certainly better off than how things had been on Dantooine. A number of troopers were forming barricades around the perimeter and setting explosives on the main approaches. Essentially anywhere Lyssa had deemed was likely to receive enemy movement, and traps had been set. They would only whittle the enemy numbers down and would fall well short of halting them to any real extent.
Lyssa was likely the most experienced soldier out of everyone here. Very few of the guards here had seen any real action, not on a planet that had once fallen well within the Empire's sphere of influence. Belsmuth II was not a well-known world, and it had never made for an attractive target to the Rebellion. Now, though, the enemy was at their doorstep, and they were likely going to start landing soldiers in the next half an hour. Behind her, General Gaskorn stood quietly, his eyes scanning the assembled soldiers before them.
"This is all we have on the ground," he said. "Too many of our troopers are stuck in orbit. A few shuttles made it down, but the battle above is becoming too hot for any more to make it through safely."
"These people, they will have to do." She spoke quietly, her attention shifting towards the General. "At least they've all been trained, to some extent."
"But very few of them have seen combat," Gaskorn replied. He spoke in similar low tones, as to keep the nearest troopers from overhearing. "I know of plenty of decent troopers stuck elsewhere in the sector. The Rebels caught us at a bad time, and it is unlikely reinforcements are going to make it."
"We're on our own?"
"It looks that way." Gaskorn paused for a moment, likely pondering their situation. It was far from ideal, yet Lyssa could see some chance of success amongst their apparent disadvantages. If only because she had been in worse, although she was yet to see what kind of ground forces the Rebellion would level their way.
"Do they know the situation?" Lyssa asked him.
"They know enough."
Lyssa could certainly feel that the mood here was a dour one. The dreary weather was certainly not helping matters. Certainly, some of the recruits in the gathered crowd did not look entirely at ease, and why would they? Before the battle of Endor, Belsmuth II would have been a safe world, one well out of the Rebellion's interests. Now it had become a focal point, a staging ground for Imperial operations in this sector of the Outer Rim. To let it keep on going as it was, with the potential of gathering more forces, would only hurt the Rebellion's war effort. They would take the planet, and something told Lyssa that they would win this battle, but she would make sure that the cost of the victory was high. High enough for it to seem like a loss. They could not match the Rebel forces man-to-man, as they were outnumbered. The battle taking place in orbit would only stall the Rebels, but soon enough they would break through, if they had not already. With that in mind, what she did next would have to be done in a short amount of time.
There were a few metal crates nearby, filled with blaster rifles. She pushed one of them towards the front of the group, keeping the lid on as she stood upon it. Doing so put her somewhat above the heads of the bulk of the crowd, and it caused every set of eyes on the parade ground to settle upon her. She was not usually one to be the centre of attention, but these were not normal circumstances.
"Attention, everyone." Her voice carried well over the open ground, and she did not need to repeat herself. Everyone was looking at her, most of their faces hidden beneath helmets and visors. "I am Lieutenant-Commander Lyssa Raine, of the 19th Scouting and Mobile Reconnaissance Group. Most of you have a good idea of our current situation, and that no doubt includes the fact that the odds are against us. We are outnumbered in terms of infantry, vehicles and ships. We are outgunned, as this Academy was never properly equipped to repel a ground invasion. Such a scenario was never taken seriously, given how out of the way this world has been until now." She paused, allowing her words to carry across the parade ground, for them to sink in and register in the minds of every man and woman present. She wondered what Korba would say, if he were here, standing before this crowd. Something stirring, no doubt, delivered in such a way that even the most downbeat soldier would be driven into a patriotic fervour.
"The galaxy is being torn apart by civil war, a war that has claimed the lives of so many of our leaders, including the Emperor himself. And for every loss we take, the Rebellion gains more support, more soldiers, more materials. They turn our own ships and weapons against us, they even turn our own people against us where they can. Some of you probably have doubts even now, thoughts that perhaps surrendering will make things easier for you. Of course, some of you do not know the Rebellion as I do. For all their talk of freedom and liberty, it is likely that they would not treat any one of us common soldiers fairly. High-ranking officials, certainly, for they hold the most useful information. But soldiers like us? We would be a burden. They would throw us in prison, perhaps even execute us. And I know that I do not intend on dying to a firing squad. If I die, it will be on my terms, with both feet planted firmly on the ground, not on my knees before anyone. I will die fighting for the Empire I have devoted my life to, the one that has made me something more than any ordinary life on a farm, or as a merchant, or a freighter pilot might have gotten me. I am a better person for what the Empire has taught me, as are we all. And we will protect our Empire, our way of life, no matter the cost." She could not help but become somewhat impassioned as she spoke, as the words came out of her naturally, rolling off of the tongue as she thought less about what to say, and simply spoke from her heart.
"We have all lost friends, family even. The war has touched us all in some way. We would not be here otherwise. I myself lost a good friend not too long ago, and most recently a commanding officer I respected greatly and considered a friend, for the brief time in which I knew him. It is for these fallen that I will fight, for if I can stop the Rebels from claiming anymore of my friends, my comrades, then I would consider that a victory, even if my actions save just one life. We fight for the future of the galaxy, on a world that has been a symbol of what the Empire means for many years. The Academy here made me a stronger person, a better person, and I intend on protecting it with all my heart, with all my devotion. If we go into battle as devoted as we are, then we cannot possibly lose, even in death. Our actions here will be remembered, regardless of the victor." She paused briefly, taking a breath, watching as some of the stormtroopers and cadets nodded their heads as they took in her words. At least some of them had brightened up a little, their postures a little straighter, their demeanours a little more active. Her words were having an effect, and this to her was the outcome she had hoped for from her impromptu speech.
"We will make our enemies pay for every square inch of ground they claim here on Belsmuth II," Lyssa said. She spoke this somewhat more harshly, and she continued to speak more from feeling than from any rational thought. Korba had died to the Rebellion, and she intended on making them pay for it. The same went for Sergeant Alvera, who had deserved far better. "For every one of us they kill, we will make them pay with ten of theirs!"
There were some cheers then, some whoops and shouts as a sizeable portion of the gathered soldiers became caught up in what was being said. Lyssa smiled, seeing the way most of them reacted, relieved to see that at least some of the dour mood had been lifted. Still, words were one thing, the easy thing. Actions, on the other hand, were another matter entirely.